


Seasonal Changes

by coward_with_coffee



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute smooches and soccer bets, Human AU, In which Feli paints and Arthur writes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coward_with_coffee/pseuds/coward_with_coffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our lives are as ephemeral as the seasons yet misery is indefinitely perpetual. Arthur Kirkland, swallowed by repetitiveness, longs for his monochrome life to change. These are the eight months preluding to the moment his life is recolored by the paint stained hands of an artist. (Engita)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasonal Changes

_January~_

_I have somehow been granted leave and thank riddance for that. The perpetual cloud which has diminished my will to write has lifted with the New Year. Perhaps these days will prove more fruitful than the last. At least for today I shall ignore the pestering texts and any responsibilities in favour of my writing. I want to write this novel during the British Empire’s golden age- perhaps I’ll muster the will to complete this for I’ve been throwing ideas around my head for the last year. I guess it’s time to put my thoughts to work- who knows; maybe I can get this published?_

Arthur sat before the glaring light of his computer screen, sighing dramatically as the moments ticked by. Now where to begin? He’d prepared a steaming cup of tea and sat before an empty document, struggling to create an appropriate setting. He would have to resort to the final measure. Sliding back on his chair, he leaned toward the shelf beside his circular, cluttered desk, retrieving pale earphones.

 Once more, he paused and miserably deflated in his seat, leaning upon the cool surface of his laptop’s keyboard. He hesitantly selected his playlist and allowed the music to coax him into a proper state. The lyrics swirled around him, peppering him with soft pats; flicks and kisses, transforming his bland apartment into a doorway of another universe: a universe where he was in control of the fools in it. Grateful for the wave of inspiration, he began typing, fabricating the stars and the sky; the mountains and the cities; the people and their stories all with the movements of his fingers. For a brief moment, he played god and enjoyed the omnipotent power behind his words. He constructed the conceptual skeleton on his words and breathed life into his characters, willing them onto the path of adventure. He soon was whisked away into a faraway land of adventure, love and beauty. The words piled upon one another, multiplying to paragraphs of events which grew into a mere chapter.

Arthur felt his irritation increase as his inspiration bled onto the pages, leaving him utterly uninterested as the stress of plot holes and detailed weighed upon his chest. Despite the careful selection of another playlist, there was no burst of inspiration or will to write, prompting him to slam his computer’s lid shut. He leapt from his chair and paced around his room, deciding to seek inspiration. He paused for a moment before swivelling toward the large mass of papers which occupied the opposing wall in an attempt to recompose himself. Upon the mess of papers, he searched for a scathing, terribly truthful review, inscribed with his name. As he caught sight of the particularly mangled paper, he grinned, reliving the joy he felt as his review became synonymous with his penname. Perhaps, the idea which had been born in his mind would be received similarly. 

_~.~.~_

 

_February~  
_

_My decrepit house is no longer a home. Of twenty five years now, my ambitions have been eroded and tarnished as my once fiery passion has finally been quashed by the winter rains. Despite the dawn of a season, I continue to mindlessly comply with the demands of my stout boss and the remarks of my fellow colleagues; I fall deeper into the abyss of repetition. I grow board of the unchanging, grey shrouded skies of London and these inkblots and tales of sorrow in this journal._

_Alas, as the cycle of these turbulent spring rains, life goes on…_

The rain droplets caressed the asphalt, imparting an unnoticed gloss as the plush shops shed light on the breeding darkness. The rain drummed on his crimson veil, which sheltered him from the cold droplets, lulling him into a silent trance. It was through the oncoming storm that he felt engulfed by the horrors of reality. His arms fell limp and his umbrella was discarded, as the rain drenched his hair and saturated his expensive clothes. He stood on the road which was devoid of cars and watched the raindrops which congregated on his blonde strands, simply allowing the chilling winds to claw at him through the storm.   
“How did I end up here?” He muttered as he dejectedly turned toward the path beside the road, leaving behind his so very old umbrella. A gentleman would never act in such a foul manner, he noted bitterly, as the rain continued to batter his apathetically calm form.

How many days would he endure before sick repetition slit his pale throat? His drenched form shivered excessively as he transitioned from a heavy trudge, to a brisk stride, and finally into a reckless sprint. As long as the erratic beats of his heart thumped in his ears and the pain in his lungs dulled the heartache, he would survive. Run he did. Through the deafening rain he aimlessly sprinted until his energy left him and his steps became deliberate and slow. Finally, at a street near his apartment, he paused and allowed the rain to beat him- to prickle his skin with deceivingly painful droplets of cleansing water as he stood amidst the storm.

_~.~.~_

_April~_

_It’s the feeling of despair which deeply roots itself into the pits of your stomach and heart. It grows into a monster which squeezes your innards and scrapes at your flesh, waiting to be released. It produces dread which pulses through your veins and nauseates you, leaving you with a sincere ache in your heart. You feel restless, uninspired and so utterly empty. I fear that I have become a victim of this horror and have lost the will to write as a consequence. Oh how these horrors claw in me, willing to be free from my body, slowly plunging me into depression all the while. I’ve lost the will to walk, to write and to continue onward. I’ve been consumed. That’s all there is. No more words, no more entries- I will stumble through my days until the monsters completely ruin me._

_The world rapidly continues on without me- not glancing back or pausing. There is nobody who will wait for me- nobody who will accompany me as I steadily tread through a buzzing path of people. Let me walk alone- what does it matter? I am an English gentleman who will continue on an idle stride, alone or not.  
You know, I have a dream in which I’m falling. I can only see the clear midday sky but I feel myself fall: the sensation overcomes me as my hair whizzes wildly and my stomach flips. Before I crash to my demise I wake and the cycle begins again. Why the hell I’m falling, I do not know… Now that I reflect on this, I recall my umbrella. I recall watching it fall parallel to my vision as a crimson blur. Somehow, it’s ripped and tattered and accompanying me as I hurtle downward._

_It’s a strange dream, I must admit. It’s significance hasn’t dawned on me, yet- I guess time will tell._

He lay in the embrace of his bed sheets- cold, exhausted and numb. Growing tired of the silence, Arthur lethargically rolled to his side, battling the tangled sheets as he stared at the glaring numerals on his alarm. It was the early hours of the morning, four o’clock exactly. He deflated immediately, deciding to stare at the pale textured ceiling above him. The grey dawn barely illuminated his room, simply touching the corners of the room, emphasising the silhouettes of his furniture.   
“My god.” He muttered, tiredly rubbing the blurriness from his eyes. He could do nothing but allow the grey light bleed into a paler yellow before transforming into an intense glare, indicating the commencement of the day. It was simply another day- thankfully a weekend, though. He lay on his mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling.

 What a time to be alive for Arthur Kirkland. 

The incessant noise of traffic hauled him from the sheets of his bed and forced him to bundle up in an attempt to continue on. He walked through his apartment’s door, mindlessly locking up before proceeding down the staircase to his awaiting obligations. The metropolis in which he resided was bustling on the chilling morning. Despite the wonderfully splendid sky, it had been pouring for the past week so the English fellow contently pushed away his sorrows for a moment to appreciate the weather as he briskly walked to the shopping district. He would struggle through the day if he had to for the weather was far too rare to squander.

He expected his day off to be somewhat less stressful for the glistening sunlight gave off the impression of positivity. The warm day, was a pleasant surprise in the middle of spring as he strolled across the pathway, free to roam the unexplored streets of London. Somehow, he’d found himself in the metropolitan cluster of the city, overwhelmed with the chatter of citizens and tourists as he searched for a bank. He’d planned to invest his day running errands, somehow getting lost in the process. He swore underneath his breath in agitation as he got himself more and more lost. His footsteps became deliberate and raging as he neared a quiet street, rid of the pesky tourists. It was the type of street which was lined with antique shops and quaint restaurants, scarcely populated by the local lot. He decided with huff that his endeavours were as lost as he promptly began to wander down the shaded area in awe of the calm setting. To think that such a place was hidden in the streets of England.

As he lethargically wandered through the quaint avenue as a blur of colour appeared from the corner of the street and ran straight towards him.  Given no time to move, the colourful lump screeched unorthodoxly before colliding with the Britton.   
“What the hell?” Arthur spluttered, as he fell to the pavement “Watch where you’re goi-“  
“Please don’t hurt me, Vino!” interrupted the stranger, pausing when he was met with Arthur’s stern glare.  
“Quit the bloody screaming.” Arthur instructed, face flushed in anger “Honestly, you’d better watch where you’re going…” He flexed his elbow as the other fellow scrambled to the sidewalk and inspected his own injuries. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to quash his anger, Arthur stood up shakily.   
“You alright over there?” the British fellow questioned awkwardly “I mean, are you okay?” To this question, paint streaked hands obstructed Arthur’s vision as the seated fellow gestured for Arthur to sit beside him on the sidewalk. Unsure what else to do, the blonde fellow obliged, unsure what had become of his life.  
“Well, you see” the fellow began, heavily accented “This morning, I really didn’t want to work so I told my brother I was sick and I stayed at home painting. He came home with some steaming ravioli and totally flipped when I was caught painting,” to this statement, the fellow chuckled light heartedly “man, was he mad!”  The expressive man immediately paused “My name’s Feliciano Vargas, nice to meet you!”  
“Erm, it’s a pleasure. The name is Arthur- Kirkland- I mean, my name is Arthur Kirkland.” He stuttered, utterly irritated by the man’s actions “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?”  
“Well, I can’t quite remember, you see. She told me a lot of things- like not to be rude...” The snarky bastard replied, a grin spreading across his face. The accented fellow yawned and with that, he left in a blur of auburn, blue, red and black.   
“Sorry about that, by the way.” He grinned sheepishly before continuing on his way, not looking back.

_~.~.~_

_June~_

_Feliciano (I think that was his name) the bumbling idiot has somehow landed into my life once more._  
Now, a few days ago, too logged down by work, I opted for a break at the pub. You’ll never guess my surprise when the fellow and I met once more. The oblivious arse somehow beat me in betting- I still ask myself how. Somehow, we ended up exchanging numbers and money once more as he won. If he thinks that Manchester won’t win next week, he’s wrong.   
  
It was the last place Arthur expected to be on a warm, Thursday evening.

 There he sat, in far corner of a crowded pub, drinking away his mid-week woe. The mass of people which cluttered the pub were rowdy and annoyingly happy considering the time, filling the nooks and crannies of the bar with cheers and jovial football discussions. The room was furnished with a concoction of wooden stools, grimy chairs and a variety of questionable decorations which served to dampen the Brit’s mood further.

Thankfully seated in the least crowded sector of the room, he stared at his beer thoughtfully, attempting to justify his strategic retreat from obligations. As he deeply contemplated just why he’d fled from his responsibilities, he felt a tap his shoulder as a shadow fell upon him.   
“Uh, sorry.” muttered the voice absently “Can I sit beside you? There’s nowhere else to sit- Oh hey it’s you!” The abrupt change of tone earned a quizzical stare from Arthur before he recognised the auburn locked, bronzed artist he’d run into. He forcefully smiled at the strange fellow and edged closer to the bar’s wall courteously  
“Oh- Hi.” He stated, unfazed “Fancy meeting you here.” Feliciano obviously had not detected Arthur’s apathy for the Italian chucked, seating himself comfortably beside the English man and replied “Yeah! Man, I really should apologise for running into you that time.” To this statement, Feliciano winked jokingly “If you were a pretty lady, I’d take you out as compensation!”  
“I guess you can buy me a drink, then.” It was impossible to miss the smug smirk on Arthur’s face as horror distorted Feliciano’s grin.  
“I was hoping that you’d treat me instead!” following this statement, Feliciano ordered Arthur a beer and promptly frowned at Arthur’s snarky expression “That was really mean, ve!”  
Arthur simply supressed a smile, unwilling to accept the contagious joy stemming from the artist “Serves you right- making propositions you don’t intend to keep.”

From their surprisingly cheerful conversation, the two focused on the football match on the large screen before them: Arsenal versus Napoli. Before long, they joined the crowd’s cheers and boos, taking up arms against different teams in the process.   
“I bet you that Napoli will win.” Feliciano leaned toward and whispered to Arthur who watched the game intently.  
“What are we betting?” Arthur whispered back, wondering all the while why he was doing so.  
“Twelve pounds.” Feliciano stated simply,  
“Nine” the blonde reasoned.  
“Seventeen”  
“Have you gone mad?” Arthur questioned incredulously, as the crowd cheered for Arsenal “Fine, how about fourteen pounds? No more no less.” Feliciano grinned happily  
“Deal.”   
 “You’d better expect to pay, this time.” How could he pass up the opportunity of the last word?  


 The rowdy crowds left and the chatter fell to a soft buzz as the soccer game ended contrary to the majority’s speculation. Arthur, who had wholeheartedly believed in his investment, grumbly, presented his bills to a very smug Italian. To their transaction, the duo left the cool pub in favour of the humid streets. The yellow glow of the pub seemed to reflect in Feliciano’s amber eyes which brimmed with satisfaction, prompting Arthur to grumble grouchily. The silence stretched out as the recently acquainted couple stood in the doorway of the bar awkwardly before Feliciano stepped forward, clapping the Englishmen on the shoulder, jovially  
“Don’t feel bad, you were doomed the moment you agreed to the bet.” Feliciano’s cheeky smile earned an agitated chuckle from Arthur who grumbled   
“We’ll see about that…” It was a subtle, rare invitation from Arthur which flew right over Feliciano’s oblivious head.   
“I should probably go home… Lovino’s anger’s probably stewed long enough.” Feliciano muttered hopefully as he began walking. Arthur simply shook his head and watched the Italian bumble down the pathway before pausing, swivelling toward him “See you next time?” Feliciano’s friendly, blatant invitation was received splendidly.   
“Yeah,” Why the hell not, Arthur reasoned “see you next week.

_~.~.~_

_August~_

_There were many moments in my life where I have questioned everything I know. Never, though, have I questioned the very fibres of a person. I’m a man of many words so to compensate for my lacking heart. When I’m around him though, I feel as though I’m at a loss of words for I have a heart. Is it normal to be entranced by the soft curve of his lips or the prominence of his neck beneath his collar; is it questionable when I dream of his presence and crave his attention? I honestly do not know._

The heatwave wracking London had rendered Arthur sunburnt, sweaty- practically dead. Securing a day of leave, he sat in the range of his fan, lazing away the evening in the haven of his grimy apartment. His phone rang and all hopes of relaxation were discarded as Feliciano’s panicked voice screeched through the phone  
“Can I crash at your place?” Arthur was struck with horror as Feliciano repeated the request more passively.   
“Uhh,” His damned head didn’t seem to work “Where are you right now, Feliciano?”  
“Outside the bar- please, Arthur?” Feliciano’s voice was laboured and terribly desperate.   
“Fine.” He couldn’t possibly leave a panicked idiot on the streets “I’ll tell you my address. Don’t worry, it’s only a few minutes away.” The details were relayed and Arthur scrambled from the marginally cooler sofa, feverishly clearing away the mess of papers and cut outs which littered his apartment.

After two more phone calls from Feliciano, a dash to neaten his apartment and a minor moment of panic, the shrill sound of a doorbell disposed of the stressed silence hanging over his house. Practically sprinting to his door, Arthur was met by a slobby, bag wielding wreck.   
“I’m so, so sorry.” Feliciano wheezed out before sloppily greeting his friend with a hug as Arthur steered him the fanned living room.  
“What the hell happened to you?” Arthur managed to exclaim through his overloaded mind “You look like shit!”  
“Can you please get me some water?” Feliciano evaded, his request quickly complied.  
“Here.” Arthur simply handed a glass of water to the poorly bidding fellow and flopped next to him on the sofa “Just breathe, okay?” It took moments for Feliciano’s erratic breathing to slow and for the English man to collect his thoughts once more “ Feliciano, you need to tell me what’s wrong.”  
“Today really sucked, Arthur.” The brunette stated “Generally, my brother and I bicker and fight but this time… This time was different and we stepped over the line.” Feliciano placed the glass on the tableside and leaned into his hands “Ve, I’m sorry for the imposition.”  
He honestly had no idea how to respond to Feliciano at that moment so he remained the impassive bastard he knew himself to be as Feliciano sniffed, aggressively swiping at his eyes “I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know.”   
Arthur who trusted not in affection and comforting stood up from the seat and grabbed Feliciano’s trembling form upward for an embrace.  As Feliciano remained impassive, Arthur disheartened, allowed Feliciano to stand limply alone.   
“I’m not good at this stuff and I apologise for that.” He began slowly as Feliciano remained unresponsive “You’re my friend.” the embarrassment was short lived as Arthur powered on “My only friend, really…Stay here for as long as you want but please- I beg of you, please don’t be so sad.”  
Again, Feliciano swiped at his eyes before hesitantly embracing Arthur, whispering ever so quietly “Thank you- so much, thank you.” And they stood like that until Feliciano’s tremor riddled body ceased movement and Arthur’s supportive embrace weakened, allowing them to sit in silence as the evening ticked on.   
Funny how such fleeting moments lead to such circumstances. Their comfortable silence was interrupted by the embarrassing growl of his stomach, prompting a sniffling laugh from the Italian man beside him.  
“Are you hungry, too?” Feliciano questioned, not bothering to engage in eye contact   
“Why don’t I order pizza?” It was a bad decision to make Arthur realised as Feliciano’s face crinkled in disgust   
“Do you really want to eat that crap?” Feliciano sighed heavily “Man you English have horrible taste buds- ordered pizza? Really?”   
“Okay,” Arthur huffed, glad to banter with Feliciano “Firstly, my taste buds are just fine and secondly, take away pizza isn’t that bad. Fine, I’ll just cook something, now.” To this exclamation, Arthur stomped into his kitchen and searched for ingredients as Feliciano followed curiously.  Moments passed and Arthur swore grumpily as his search proved futile  
“Goddamn it! I thought that I’d have _something!”_ He spat “Feliciano, I’m just going to drop by at the shops, okay? You stay here.”  
“No, you can’t leave me here alone!” Feliciano whined “Take me with you.”  
“But- you know what? Let’s go then.” Arthur muttered, knowing better than to argue. From there, as Feliciano’s mood improved, Arthur’s predicament became more and more confusing.

How Arthur survived the following days, he wholeheartedly did not know. He stumbled through the grateful shows of affection, Feliciano’s companionship and the blossoming feeling of contentment as his lonesome days crumbled away. Feliciano’s frown slowly faded to an occasional grimace or troubled grumble as he began to notice the small things. He realised how Feliciano’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled and the crinkles which appeared beside his eyes as he chuckled; he became aware of the soft sighs which spilled from Feliciano’s mouth as he thought he was alone and the way he accepted and gave affection with a twinge of bitterness; as the third day passed, he noticed  the beauty of the faint smile which was painted upon Feliciano olive face and the way it widened mischievously as the afternoons faded into evening as his own walls crumbled to ash.

Then came the day which Arthur expected- the time when the joy he had found would wilt into an unwanted mess. As though predicting the chaos, rain poured upon the miserable backdrop of London.   
“Sorry about the mess.” Arthur muttered, stepping over the papers which littered the floors once more “I don’t know how this place got so messy.”   
“Ve, it’s okay!” Feliciano exclaimed, making no move to apologise for the imposition anymore “Do you have anything to eat? I was supposed to buy some lunch but I was too lazy.” to this demand, Arthur supressed the urge to laugh. It was so, _so_ Feliciano-esque for a demand to be so casual.    
“Jesus, Feliciano- I’ll never grow tired of your pestering!” he announced daringly, leading Feliciano to the kitchen “I’ll boil some tea.”  
“Do you have anything you didn’t cook?” Feliciano asked, smirking teasingly “You really can’t cook for shit- how you managed to burn instant noodles, I cannot comprehend- I still wonder why I agreed to eat it.”  
“Well aren’t you pleasant, today.” Arthur muttered, grinning through his cross tone.   
Their banter continued onward as the teas were brewed and the milk and sugar was added (“No milk or sugar, thank you.” Feliciano had said). The duo sat before one another and sipped at the scalding hot tea before Arthur decided to tread upon the mine field “What happened?” Feliciano simply sighed and stared down at the steaming cup, prompting Arthur to continue “Feliciano, you’ve been here for five days- please at least try to tell me what happened.” In return Feliciano sighed dejectedly  
“I’m an idiot.” Arthur opened his mouth to reply but closed it when no response came to mind. Feliciano, with much difficulty, continued on “It was my fault this time- what I said to Lovino was a low blow.” Arthur barely pieced together the meaning as Feliciano continued “My grandfather and younger sibling were going to visit next week and somehow he and I got into a fight. I didn’t know what to do so I called you. You know, you’re the only person who would help- Ludwig lives in Berlin and Kiku went to visit his brother and I knew that you would help me.” In a sense it was endearing that Feliciano ran to a foolish swine like himself. That very thought brought a discreet smile to the Englishmen’s face.    
“I’m really sick and tired of this, you know…” Feliciano muttered quietly, sipping his tea before continuing “Every time I think that our family has repaired itself, something destroys all hope of this. All I wanted was for him to understand… I went too far.” Arthur, was taken aback by the terribly sad expression Feliciano, wore upon his bronzed face.   
“Oh, Feliciano.”  He whispered, at a loss of words “All families are dysfunctional and I’m afraid that you- and I- are the doormats, I suppose.” Swiping the teacup and drowning down the scorching contents, he pushed his chair up and strode to Feliciano who remained seated “I say we head out for a night out. You, my friend, need to let loose.” He could believe the words coming from his mouth. Arthur scanned the kitchen bench top to make sure that there has been no alcohol in sight, horrified by the proposition he- a gentleman- was making in the name of friendship “Up you get.” He instructed, lifted Feliciano up from the arm “If you must,” he began, instantly regretting his proposition “I can arrange for you to stay here longer- I bet that the sofa isn’t comfortable at all...”  
“Thanks, Arthur.” Feliciano cooed, launching himself at Arthur in an attempt to hug the blonde man.   
As Feliciano, quickly pulled away from the grateful hug, Arthur, who had not registered the act, shook his head and attributed Feliciano’s quirkiness to an unknown variable. Lost in his mental banter, Arthur didn’t notice Feliciano whose smile faded and whose hand’s searched for Arthur’s hands. Opting for the easier option, Feliciano gripped Arthur’s sleeves, hesitating as he adjusted his form, positioning himself before the British man.   
“Arthur,” he whispered, peering at the taller man “I’ve messed up. You know, before, I used to flirt with the beauties on the street; I used to dance with the gorgeous bella and I serenaded the good lookers without a second thought...” His arms slipped from Arthur’s cuff to his friend’s shoulders in an embrace as his comment was forgotten. Arthur, who was unsure how to respond, simply responded to the hug, wrapping his arms around Feliciano, curious at his actions all the while. Despite the questionability of their actions, Arthur felt a warm sense of contentment settle in his stomach as he decided that he didn’t care, simply holding his companion, calmly inhaling the scent of cologne as they were preserved in an ephemeral embrace, the sound of their heartbeats and the faraway tick of a clock, the sole indication of time. Arthur registered the warmth shared between their two bodies fall away as Feliciano slowly, hesitantly brought his hands to the Englishman’s chest and paused before leaning in close enough to feel the warm breath of his companion. Arthur, could not help but stare as the Italian’s lips which were curled into a dreamy smile. He brought one of his previously limp hands to the lightly stubbled jawline of the Italian, using the other to curl around the smaller fellow’s waist as he angled his head and pressed his lips on Feliciano’s, feeling the other man’s hands slide from his chest onto the back of his neck, pushing them closer together. Warmth crept from his pale cheeks to his ears and his heartbeat raced as they lingeringly parted, inches separating their lips once more.   
“Wow.” Feliciano sighed, opting for a softer kiss on the corners of the Englishmen’s lips before planting a firmer kiss on the taller man’s lips.

It was the blasted clock which broke the spell. Its shrill ring jolted Feliciano, prompting for the two to part ways, abruptly.   
“Oh god- Umm, I’d better go.” Feliciano hurriedly muttered, pushing his way through the paper littered floor to the exit, leaving the blonde man dazed and lonesome.   
Arthur faintly heard Feliciano open the door before he jolted from his petrification and sprinted after Feliciano in the dark of the evening.  He barely located Feliciano’s fleeing form as the rain slowly dissipated into a light drizzle as Feliciano’s form slowly progressed down the lit street. The clatter and chatter of the evening shoppers were a dulled sensation as Arthur watched Feliciano’s form weave away and around the crowd, slowly disappearing in the evening haze.     
Would they really part so simply- would he really watch the jovial lantern in his life slowly be extinguished in the busy streets of London as he idly watched?    
 He abruptly spun on his heel and discarded his umbrella, sprinting toward the man who he’d come to love. He wove between the masses and dealt with the rude complaints of some as he approached the brunette artist.  No, he most definitely would not leave the blithering idiot whose paint stained hands were engraved in his mind  
“Feliciano,” he exclaimed, catching the attention of the Italian who stared at him curiously through the crowd “wait!” He would damn well lose himself if it meant finding the ditzy idiot who had demolished the protective barricades of his heart. The rain left a misty dampness on his flushed features as he ran toward the other man while avoiding the bodies of woman, children and men. Feliciano stood as an unmoving beacon in the rushing streets, the warm lighting of the lining shops illuminating his amber locks and cheerful eyes. Finally, they were within a proper distance of one another when Arthur halted abruptly as the dull scent of Feliciano’s cologne lingered in the damp air and seemed to envelope him.   
 “I- I’ve also messed up.” He muttered ruefully, hesitantly extending his pale hands in request for Feliciano’s “And you’re to blame, you idiot.”   
Feliciano’s eyes softened kindly as he silently pushed Arthurs outstretched arms down.  
“No.” Feliciano uttered quietly as he shuffled toward Arthur who simply stared blankly at the filthy pavement “Look at me, Arthur.” The sensation of warmth diffused through Arthur’s skin as Feliciano firmly grasped his jawline. “Look at me.” He repeated, forcing the British fellow to succumb to the Italian’s quiet voice  
“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have done that.” Feliciano shook his head sadly “Please, just go home, Arthur.” To this, the British fellow snapped from his passive stance   
“Don’t push me away.” Feliciano, inched away from Arthur’s glaring form as the blonde fellow hissed out desperately.   
“If we do this, they’ll snicker at you, too. People are horrible- they’ll criticise you if we’re together!” Like the cowardly person he was, Feliciano ran, disappearing amidst the crowds as Arthur screeched  
“I’m gay, you blithering idiot!”

Feliciano never came back for his clothes or bag.

_~.~.~_

_November~  
In my life, I have lost many things. I have given up pivotal components of my life in a prideful rage and have never made the effort to recover it. I don’t know why he caught my attention so much so and it bothers me endlessly how much I have changed in spite of everything. I’ve cast aside my beloved pride for this man and it confuses me- oh, it does._

Arthur found himself in the rustic pub once more as winter swooped upon London’s skyline, painting his home white. The heated interior of the bar was lively on that freezing day- in fact, the yellowed glow of the lighting tinted the populated room wonderfully as Christmas festivities leeched the sadness from the crowd. Laughter broke across the room as he paid and left, growing tired of his cheap outing. The cold nipped at his pale skin as he began the tedious walk to his apartment, dreading work the next day.

He crossed the busy streets and entered the lively shopping complex to reach his grossly dilapidated house. The recently renovated lot was a popular attraction in the city, seeing swarms of lively tourists and locals daily, filled to the brim with stalls and plush shops meant to seduce weak budgeters. He kept his head high, and took a detour through the premise in an attempt to return to the privacy of his home.   
He took a right turn, entering a marginally quieter avenue where the fragrance of wonderful foods wafted through the air. He felt a serine sense of calmness wash upon him as he casually strode through the wonderful street, completely disregarding where he was speedily walking.  
“Oof-“he fell backward with a shrill exclamation, as he collided with another person.

Destiny was an insufficient explanation, Arthur decided.

 “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” He exclaimed apologetically, as the fellow before him dusted himself and stood up, grin falling as he was greeted by Arthur’s own surprised features. He accepted Feliciano’s hand whish hauled him up as he sheepishly asked  
“Oh- Feliciano- how have you been?” Feliciano averted his stare to the curvaceous woman beside him, ignoring Arthur’s inquiry  
“Chiara, this is Arthur- one of my friends.” He gestured to the brunette locked woman beside him and in turn pointed toward Arthur’s defeated form “Arthur, meet Chiara.” The woman beside him glanced at Arthur sternly and spoke to Feliciano in what he assumed to be Italian.  The Briton contemplated dismissing himself three times before the beautiful woman beside Feliciano announced that she was going to buy a drink from a closing café, leaving the duo alone.  
“Is- is she your girlfriend?” Arthur asked sombrely, shifting his weight from foot to foot all the while  
“God no.” Feliciano chuckled nervously “She’s my brother’s fiancée. I guess a scary as bride deserves a terrifying groom, ve.” The blonde fellow released a breath he was not aware to be holding, laughing away the worry.  
“How have you been Feliciano?” he repeated, swallowing his pride to restitch the void between his friend and himself “It’s been too long.” When Feliciano gave no reply, he tried once more “I really have missed your stupidity in my life, you know.”   
“I know.” Feliciano muttered quietly, “I’ve been well, by the way.”  
Brick by brick, Arthur decided to rebuild his friendship  
“I’m glad. You’d never guess who won the soccer match, today…

_~.~.~_

_December~_

_I have never craved the love of another so much. He occupies my mind, my dreams and my being. In the dark of the night, when I am alone, I catch the scent of his cologne and search for his presence. These thoughts do not define me yet they brand me with uncontrollable warmth and hopefulness. I fear that it’s driving me crazy and I pray that this desire will not destroy our friendship once more._

“I’m damn sick and tired of this- this game!” Arthur shouted- all hope of calm conversation abandoned as he droned on “What am I to you? A friend, some bloody toy or a- a” he paused for a moment, face burning as he muttered “or are we more than that?” His skin felt too tight as Feliciano’s form snapped to him.  
“I don’t know.” The Italian’s voice was but a silent whisper, endlessly annoying Arthur “I thought that we sorted this out but- I don’t know…”  
“You don’t know- somehow, I fucking doubt that!” Angrily, Arthur strode toward the smaller man, clasping his collar and pushing him against the wall “I just want to know!” he growled before releasing his grip “That- that kiss- yes, the one from back then- did something to me but do you care? No.” He released his grip on Feliciano’s collar and lowered his voice “You ignored me for three months. Do you have any idea how I felt? How long I wondered what I did that night? Do you even care? I don’t know what to do anymore, Feliciano. I just… don’t.” His hands fell to his sides limply as he stared at Feliciano’s petrified form blankly, a wave of guilt overcoming him as Feliciano remained unresponsive.   
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Be muttered, hands brushing through his hair as he frowned “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You know what? I think I’m going to head home.”  
Now, it was an utter surprise when Arthur’s fleeing form was halted by an aggressively strong weight on his arm which flung him into the wall. He gasped in surprise as the blurred setting panned out to Feliciano’s frowning face.   
“Believe it or not, I don’t know. I was trying to protect you from the homophobes I’ve dealt with through my life.” As he punctuated each word with his cheerful voice as Arthur felt inexplicably fearful of Feliciano whose hands were firmly pressed on his chest, preventing escape. Panic welled up in his gut as Feliciano deliberately inched closer to him  
“I really don’t know.” Feliciano muttered dejectedly, edging toward Arthur breathlessly, pushing Arthur into the wall once more. Somehow, logic was forgotten as Arthur found Feliciano’s hips and inched toward the smaller man. Their kiss was by no means classy, as he desperately searched for company in their fall to madness. Teeth awkwardly clinked against one another as the two ignored public decency, instead fiercely pushing closer to one another’s heated bodies. Arthur, who could take the frustration no more slid his arms to Feliciano’s back and-  
“Oh for fuck sakes!” exclaimed an irritated voice, loud enough to prompt Feliciano to launch himself away from Arthur’s flustered form “Get your ass in here, Feliciano and stop kissing that caterpillar browed bastard, Lucca’s going to be here any minute!” To this instruction, Arthur was left frustrated and alone in the hall as the door to Feliciano’s apartment slammed closed.

_~.~.~_

_January~_

_I’ve finally found my home._

Arthur cared not of the cold which attacked his joints or the New Year festivities, but the man in his embrace.   
“Did you really think that you could deny my blatant attraction?” He wriggled his nose as Feliciano laughed at him  
“First: I was trying to protect you and second: I never _did_ deny it.”  
“You really cut me deep.” Arthur exclaimed, reigning heartache as Feliciano sighed and shuffled closer to him, his eyes fluttering close as the Englishmen’s hot breath warmed his neck. In return, the taller man, previously petrified, angled his neck and slid his arms around his companion’s waist as the gap between them vanished. It was the warmth of the embrace and the smile which Feliciano wore which prompted the English man to smile into their kiss. The bright lights of the bustling metropolis and the distracting chatter seemed to fade into a slight buzz as Feliciano’s hand curled around the blonde fellow’s shoulders and they stood there for a moment, lost in one another’s embrace. They lingeringly paused for a moment, casually inhaling the cool air as Feliciano opted for a wholehearted hug.   
“You’re ridiculous.” Arthur muttered, as the drizzling rain caught the lighting, dragging him back to reality “You really are.”  
Feliciano, who angled his head so to view Arthur grinned “What do you say I treat you to proper food?”  
“Is this an attempt to woo me?”  
“No.” Feliciano teased “It’s me asking you out on a date.”  


           

 

 


End file.
